Fridays

If you have followed me over here from social media, then we have already had the discussion of "genuine," and the black and white world in which I live. I am as pretty close to transparent as you might encounter, for I see no good reasons to be otherwise. If you are new here, or do not know me very well, then consider yourself informed as to the further content of this blog. This is #lifeunplugged and sometimes I cannot #getahandle but I think it is in these moments that we see authenticity is attractive.

Here we go....


It has occurred to me that the idea of "Friday" is novel. "Oh, hooray, we get an evening to celebrate the next two days of off." Or. "TGIF...where would I be without this precious and priceless day of the week?!" I think I can shed some light on the reality of Friday. And its complete and utter un-novel-ness.

I made it to Friday, this most special of all the days. ("Yippee" and "hooray" except I will not have a day off for awhile so it basically means nothing, but that is a note for the sidelines.) I started with the worst headache at approximately 1335 EST. I rarely get headaches, but by the time I picked up my children at 1600, I was in full blown crisis mode. Arriving home, I was desperately trying to get to my bed but persons of a smaller stature are so persistent, myself included. I could not process the questions. Not.A.Single.One. And there were oh-so-many.

 I lay down, close my eyes and think of just the right response.... And then my eyes fly open, I stare at the ceiling, and try to adjust to what is very clearly a tranquilizer situation. My brain is so very fuzzy. "What day is it? How much time has passed? For the love whose kids are making all that racket? Am I supposed to be somewhere? Is it morning? Do I really own that cat?"

 Just on cue, son #2 comes bounding in the room, asking the most famous and morally degenerating of all questions, "What's for dinner?" Oh. I see. Those kids must be mine. Great.

No sooner had the question been raised, then he was gone, and I am left to mentally account for his existence. Was he really just here? Dinner. Yes. I did not eat anything all day. Yes, dinner is a wonderful suggestion. 

Wait. If that child is mine, I'm the mother, which means I need to procure the food. Bummer. 

Wait! Za is most definitely the answer to this random child's question. I can get the za. Yes, I can do this. By sheer force of will I gather my faculties and stand, and, you guys, it is in this moment I realize I should not be operating any heavy machinery. Such as a vehicle. "Do these kids have a father? What's the deal here?" Seriously. Friends. It was the struggle of a lifetime. 

Oh my word. Za was acquired. Everyone lived. My joy in parenthood is restored. Mostly. 

But the moral: the joy of Friday means nothing. You make it to Friday and you cease to function. The end.

PS - Someone might want to make sure that tomorrow morning I know who I am and that I go to work.

PPS- These kids do have a father and he just got home.

PPPS - First blog. Boom.